


Berath's Bell

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Adra Bán [10]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: The Inestu celebrations are usually all about children passing into adulthood. But often, especially in small towns and villages – and he grew up in Dyrford, after all – it is also an occasion to celebrate love. But it is also an occasion to celebrate friendship – and perhaps admiration, too. That is why this years, Adhán is going to give flowers to Lady Eidis.





	Berath's Bell

**Author's Note:**

> (Prompt: the language of flowers.)

The Inestu celebrations are usually all about children passing into adulthood. But often, especially in small towns and villages – and he grew up in Dyrford, after all – it is also an occasion to celebrate love. All kinds of love. Familial love, with small gifts and thanking the parents for their care – ah, been a while since he has send anything to his adoptive mother, but it is easier that way, easier for both of them – the best way two ciphers can care for the other’s well-being is sometimes staying far away. Romantic love – if it was a few months ago, he would have given a bouquet of pilgrim’s crown to Nerys, but the priestess is gone, and he does not miss her, not like he should, which only proves how right she was to leave. But it is also an occasion to celebrate friendship – and perhaps admiration, too. That is why this years, Adhán is going to give flowers to Lady Eidis.

He cannot honestly say he loves her. That is, he suspects, one of the truths someone else would have found bitter, but truth is simply that – a fact, nothing else, and thus cannot have taste. Perhaps he cannot honestly say he has loved anyone, neither his mother – he brought her pain, for some reason, by his mere existence, he knows – nor any of his lovers – there was fondness and there was fun, he supposes, and sometimes respect or passion, or even both, but nothing more. So there is no reason it should be any different with the lady of Caed Nua.

She is lovely, true, but not in the way songs and ballads paint her. Too thoughtful, her pretty face marred by constant sorrow – but it gives her beauty a depth he finds appealing. He certainly admires her – never has he seen such skills in soul manipulation, not even in his mentor Islwyn, who had been trained by the legendary Lady Webb herself. Skills, power, wisdom, he admires Lady Eidis for it all. And if she looked at him and saw a man, not a faithful servant, he would never refuse. But she will never do it, he knows, he has always known – and that changes nothing.

There is more, but it is something he only thinks of rarely, the better to hide those thoughts from her. The recurring dreams of a girl made of fire, with hair like flames – but after Nerys, a fire-godlike with real flames for hair, he knows it was not that simple, not that literal. What he sees in those dreams is not a real person, but a soul. And the lady of Caed Nua has a soul that burns like a tall, bright pyre. They had known each other, in a past life – but he respects her too much to ask more than once, and he respects her wish never to speak of it.

He finds Lady Eidis in the garden. That is her safe haven for when she wants to flee the festivities for a moment, but feels she should not leave her guests and friends. A chance to take a breath and rest for a while, before she returns to them. Her white hair is pinned up like a crown over her forehead, with many stems of pilgrim’s crown plaited into her braid.

Adhán smiles at the sight. Because the tiny golden flowers suit her, but also because of the message they give everyone else – that there is someone who sends her such flowers, and therefore no other admirers would be welcome. There is no such person, of course, it is no secret for those who live in Caed Nua, but it is an elegant, diplomatic way of saying Lady Eidis wishes to be left alone.

She has come to the garden seeking solitude, but does not tell him to go away. Too kind for that. She just acknowledges his presence with a nod and gives him a brief, weary smile. Then notices the flower in his hands and blinks.

Her surprise is understandable – Berath’s bell is a highly poisonous plant, after all. But harmless if diluted enough in the form of oils – which she knows, because her perfume has a note of it. As a flower, it has a sweet scent, but when processed, it smells bitter. Death in life, life in death. A simple magical spell, expensive, but quite obtainable, is enough to ward death off.

The meaning is clear – that she is, truly – not like the long deceased lord of the Gilded Vale had thought himself to be – a chosen of Berath. But there is deeper meaning as well, something no one but her will comprehend.

Without a word, he offers her the flower. Blue and gold, almost like her eyes on a sunny day and the tiny sparks of pilgrim’s crown in her hair. Hesitantly, she accepts it. Brings it to her face to smell it, closing her eyes.

“So sweet, when still alive,” she says quietly. Then looks up at him again. “Why Berath’s bell? I wasn’t expecting anything, but there’s plenty of flowers that can convey the same meaning and don’t require so much…”

“They can’t,” he interrupts, gently, but insistently. “Not that meaning.” He bows to her, like a real courtier, as he was taught in the Row. “You can hold a soul in your hands, my lady. You are death and life.” Mine too, he thinks, but does not say it. Some things are better left unsaid, especially when he does not fully understand them.

It matter very little. She knows his thoughts anyway.

“Yes,” Eidis says in a calm voice, but there is immense power behind it. Power, exhaustion, sorrow. Many, many things. “Yes, I am.”


End file.
